


Christmas Eve, 1972

by spidersrorg



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Christmas, Comedy, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, OVA Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidersrorg/pseuds/spidersrorg
Summary: Of course, Ryo has to bring a demon hunt into Christmas.At least they didn't have to go too far. The Makimura's living room was fine a place as any.





	Christmas Eve, 1972

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlcryptid](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=owlcryptid).



_ ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all down the street, _

 

_ There was nothing but silence, not even a peep. _

 

_ But then came a pounding, a sound of rocks on the glass, _

 

_ Which had Akira stirring, and up off his ass. _

 

\--

 

Akira threw open his window, and a pebble whizzed past his face. His assailant was reeling back his arm to throw another, apparently not seeing he was there… because he was wearing sunglasses at night. “Ryo!” Akira yelled down in a poor imitation of a whisper. The guy dropped his rock. 

 

“Akira! Akira Fudo!” and Ryo was grinning, that manic grin of his, “are the Makimuras home?”

 

Now, before he had fused with Amon, Akira would probably be blushing. Being called on for a midnight rendezvous with his boyfriend in a manner that was straight from a teen movie. But Amon had made him a hunk with self-confidence, so he wasn’t blushing, he was matching Ryo’s own grin: “Nah, they’re at midnight Mass. Come on up.” Fun times were soon to be had.

 

His thoughts of a midnight rendezvous were quashed, however, when Ryo whipped his shotgun out from behind him and bust open the front door.

 

Akira ran down the stairs, “Ryo! What the fuck!”

 

Ryo folded off his sunglasses (finally), and lit up a cigarette. He stared Akira down with an intense expression, inhaled, exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It’s Christmas, and we’ve got a demon to hunt.”

 

“You can’t smoke in here,” Akira said, “the Makimuras will get pissed.”   
  
“It’s laced with ritualistic herbs,” Ryo replied, then walked past the Christmas tree and threw the cigarette in the fireplace. It lit up, the cigarette catching the kindling, and Ryo watched it, fire dancing in his eyes, “so tell me, Akira.”   
  


“Yeah?”   
  


“The Makimura boy. He a nice kid?”

 

“Tare? Yeah, I guess.”

 

Ryo whipped around, pointed his shotgun at Akira, “Do not lie to me, Fudo. I know he’s a little shit.”

 

“Okay, yeah,” Akira rubbed the back of his head, and went to close the door, “I just didn’t want to say it.”

 

“It’s a matter of importance right now,” then Ryo walked to the kitchen, threw the light switch, “Come, Akira.”

 

He didn’t like orders, but still Akira walked to the table, watched as Ryo spread out an array of papers.

 

“This is a big one, Akira,” and he jabbed his shotgun at a paper with a drawing, the rest covered in texts that Akira was definitely not going to bother with reading. The drawing was the most stereotypical depiction of a demon  _ ever.  _ A goat on its hind legs. That was it.

 

And Akira said as much.

 

Then, he picked up the paper, turned it around to the blank backside, flipped it back. “Is this a joke, Ryo? You woke me up for this?”

 

Ryo snatched the paper from his hands, “No, Akira, this is of utmost seriousness,” and he sighed, “this demon looks so stereotypical and fake because it is a  _ very, very,  _ old demon, and very powerful.”

 

Powerful. Akira liked the sound of that, he grinned and cracked his knuckles, “Yeah?”

 

“It’s the Krampus.”

 

What the fuck.

 

Akira looked at Ryo.

 

Ryo looked at Akira.

 

Akira raised an eyebrow, “You sure you aren’t fucking with me?”

 

“No. I’ve found sufficient evidence that it is real.”

 

“What about Santa?”

 

Ryo froze for a second, then turned his head slowly to look Akira directly in the eye. He narrowed his eyes, hissed at Akira, “Santa is real, don’t disrespect him like that.”

 

It was silent for a moment, then Ryo tapped his shotgun in his hand.

 

“So, we’ll be hunting it here. The Krampus will be coming for the Tare boy, and we’ll off it.”

 

“Whoah! Ryo, we can’t fight a demon here! Ghelmer was bad enough! What will I tell the Makimuras?”   
  
“Would you rather go out and try to find some other terrible child this Christmas night, summon the Krampus to their home, and fight it there while the whole family is tucked nicely into their beds?”

 

“...Okay,” Akira relented. The Makimuras were not home, and fighting here put the least amount of people in danger. Only himself, from the wrath of his host family and Miki the Hands. 

 

“Good that you agreed, because we’re already summoning it,” and Ryo gestured his shotgun at the fireplace. He needed to stop gesticulating with that thing. “It will be here soon. Now, we wait.” Then, he sat in Mr. Makimura’s lazy chair.

 

Akira stood there awkwardly, then reached for the plate of cookies set by the tree.

 

“ _ Hold your hand, Akira Fudo,”  _ Ryo hissed.

 

Right. Don’t disrespect Santa.

 

“Okay,” and Akira went and held Ryo’s hand. 

 

“That was in no shape or form what I meant.”

 

“You don’t want to hold hands with me?” and Akira faked a pout but his fang clipped his lip. Ow. But also, the taste of blood stirred his itch to fight.

 

“Now is not the time for cuddling,” Ryo said, but clenched Akira’s hand in his as he leaned closer to the fire, watching it closely. He didn’t let go of Akira’s hand, gripping it tight.

 

The fire waved as a fire did, showing absolutely nothing different from a normal fire. No weird visions, nothing. Akira had no idea what Ryo was looking at. 

 

Then the flames crackled, sparking upwards, and Akira had half a mind to push the Christmas tree out of the way of the chimney-- but Ryo’s hand tightened so much that his already-pale knuckles went pasty, holding him back. His grin went manic, and the flames licked up in unnatural shades of green.

 

Then, despite all of the theatrics, their foe appeared… unceremoniously plopping onto the floor of the fireplace, the fire extinguishing under its rear. It stood, its back curved forward in a hunch. It rubbed its butt, groaned.

 

“Japan, huh? Rare to be summoned here. You the bad kids?” the goat-headed figure asked, “Ain’t you a little old for this? No, no, I’m looking for a…” it tapped its head, its inhuman face pulling into the closest approximation of concentration that a goat could muster, “Tare Makimura. That you?”

 

“That’s him?” Akira leaned in to Ryo and asked in a whisper. Ryo simply nodded, fierce determination on his face. So much for a fearsome foe. This was… a disappointment.

 

“No, Krampus. We’re the ones who summoned you here,” Ryo spoke, “Do you know why?”

 

“Nah,” the Krampus said, “I’m too old to keep tabs. What’d the kid do so bad you gotta summon me? Eh, doesn’t matter.” It produced a branch seemingly from nowhere, “Just show me ‘im. I got places to be, it’s Christmas.”

 

“No, demon,” and Ryo stood from the comfortable recliner, cocked his gun, “we summoned you to end your reign of terror against the children of the world.”

 

“Whoah, whoah,” and the goat-man raised its hands, dropping its branch, “you got the wrong idea. I’m doin’ the world a service, here.” 

 

Ryo did not lower his gun.

 

“Yaknow, the good kids get rewarded by their parents, and in this age, so do the bad kids. Someone’s gotta remind ‘em…”

 

“That’s why they get coal from Santa, demon,” Ryo narrowed his eyes.

 

“Pshh,” and it rolled its square pupils, “tell yourself that, kid.”

 

A gunshot resounded in the living room.

 

“AH! FUCK!” the demon shouted, sulfurous yellow blood leaking from its shoulder.

 

“I GOT COAL THREE YEARS STRAIGHT,” Ryo yelled.

 

“Whoah, Ryo, were you really that bad as a kid?” Akira asked. He was a good egg and got presents every year. Shoot, he hoped he got presents this year, given that he, well, became half-demon and all. Oh. Ryo’s Santa thing was rubbing off on him. Wasn’t Akira supposed to be the innocent one…?

Three more gunshots. Holy shit.

 

“I’m too old for this,” the Krampus groaned, but picked up his switch, and seemed to grow in height, “but you’ve been a bad kid.”

 

Then, there was quite the scuffle. One that is not at all Christmas-friendly, as Devilman made his appearance. The walls were painted yellow with blood, the holly-jolly tree strung with viscera (without care), and at the center of the room was a goat-man decorated with many, many, bullet holes.

 

“Children of the world,” Ryo Asuka spoke as he lit up a cigarette, “you’re fucking welcome.”

 

Akira looked around the room, “Uh, we should do something about this…”

 

Ryo groaned and shoved a piece of one of the many articles of upturned furniture in the way of the front door, “There, the corpse’ll deteriorate before the Makimuras figure out how to get in.”

 

“...Uh, okay,” and Akira looked around at the rest of the mess of the room.

 

“Now come on, I got you a Christmas present.”

 

Akira perked up at that, “You did?!”

 

“Yeah. It’s sex. The present is sex. Come on.”

 

The thing that Akira had hoped for since the first pebble. Merry Christmas, Fudo.

\--

 

_ So the children of the world would find joy come morning, _

 

_ That the Krampus never came, despite parents’ warnings. _

 

_ For Akira Fudo, he had quite the night, _

 

_ He found great fulfilment, even if it wasn’t much of a fight. _

 

_ For Ryo Asuka, when he ascended the stairs, _

 

_ He too was jolly, _

 

_ Since the Makimuras weren’t there. _

 

_ A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> For Devil Santa 2018! The prompt was "demon hunting gone wrong (but not in a sad way)" so HERE IS CHRISTMAS HIJINKS.


End file.
